


Equivalent exchange

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amon Ereb, Childhood Trauma, Chronic Illness, F/M, Family Loss, Foster Care, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Loss of Parent(s), Quenya, Sindarin, Toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 06:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: Celegorm finds out that Beren and Luthien might not have thought about how any child of theirs might be affected by the fact that their bodies was actually dead and buried for a longer time





	Equivalent exchange

 

The first time Celegorm saw, or even met the child born to Luthien and Beren, it was pure coincidence. He had out been hunting with a few servants, hoping to catch some minor game animals for the dinner that night, when he had felt the smell of smoke in the distance. And not a campfire, a much larger fire.

 

“My lord, there is a house burning over there! It is being attacked by orcs!”

 

Who was foolish enough to build a house in the middle of nowhere? So far away from civilization? Sure, the island of Tol Galen offered some protection by being surrounded by water, but the orcs from Angband had developed tricks to get over running watercourses, or they would never have been able to spread across Beleriand like this.    

 

A few Elves was already laying dead on the ground in front of the burning house, some orcs as well but Celegorm used his skills in archery to kill the last orcs from a safe distance.

 

“Hold on….what?”

 

There was a terrified cry from a small child inside the house, from the upper floor where the bedrooms must be. And it was there the fire was spreading, it had rained the day before but the straw roof was still dry enough.   

 

“ **Nana! Nana!** ”

 

Muttering a curse under his breath, Celegorm quickly dropped a long scarf from his belt into a barrel filled with rain water before tying it around his lower face and nose so he could be able to breathe somewhat in the smoke. That kid needed to be taken out from there before the fire did spread further! No one deserved to be burned alive.

 

Thankfully, when Celegorm climbed in through a open window, the kid was in a corner near the bed, understandably terrified and searching for the security only a beloved parent could mean for a small one.

 

“There now, little one…”

 

“ ** _Nana!_ **”

 

Celegorm could feel the fire getting closer to the nursery, and there was no time to lose, so he picked up the crying child in his arms and hurried to climb down though the window again after grabbing a few clothes.

 

Once they were back down on the ground outside and getting a good distance away from the burning house, Celegorm focused on listening to how the child was breathing, a lot of coughing which made the tiny body tremble against his chest. He did expect some smoke inhalation to have happened because the child had not been big enough to open the door, and the fire in the staircase would have prevented any safe way down.

 

“See if the Elves are anyone we might know, I need to look over this little one.”

 

Out here in the sunlight, Celegorm saw that the child was a boy, no longer than perhaps three years at the most, because the Sindar would dress their very young sons in exactly, alongside trousers that was made to fit loosely on the legs. A fine chestnut-brown colour on the hair, and silver eyes that was slightly red from the smoke.

 

“There now, there is no danger anymore…”

 

He did not blame the boy for being scared of himself as a stranger, and being in shock was another normal reaction. How many people outside the family had the boy actually meet, even?

 

“Nana….nana…”

 

Thankfully Celegorm soon managed to make the boy fall asleep after wapping him into a cloak for warmth if the little one was going to enter a state of shock, and after requesting one of the servants to hold him.

 

“My lord, come and look at the one we think is the mother…”

 

There was a nervous tone in the voice of the servant, which worried Celegorm. And that proved to be a very good reason, when the third-born son of Fëanor turned the female over to her side.

 

“ ** _Luthien?!_ **”

 

A look around, and a little search, confirmed that one of the slain males could only be Beren.

 

“So the rumour of them returning to life, but with Luthien as a mortal after giving up her immortality, was true…”

 

In a way, Celegorm could understand why the couple had wanted to get away from people that would pester them with questions about how it was to meet Namo in the Halls and all that, but at the same time, living so far away from the nearest neighbors was a invitation to not getting help in time, just like now. As he walked across the yard again, Celegorm saw something that seemed to be a parchment.

 

A half-finished letter, it turned out, from Luthien to her father Thingol and mother Melian, most likely meant to be sent away with a message bird:

 

_Dearest Father and beloved Mother_

 

_Our little family looks much forward to visit Doriath soon, we plan to leave in two days and hopes that it will not take too long to travel. Meanwhile, it pleases me to tell you that things are still calm here in Tol Galen, despite what happened last year for the Noldor. It was the right choice to move here, where it is hard to find our house._

 

_Dior is growing as he should despite being a bit small, according to what Beren knows of mortal children, though I confess to that his lungs still is not as strong as we would like. And no, Father, I have no idea why my son was born a whole month earlier than what we thought._

 

_No, surely it can not be a punishment from Namo about my pleading to be a mortal so I could be with Beren both in life and death..._

 

As a hunter and someone who once had lived very close to nature in Valinor, Celegorm knew a lot of things about the circle of life than what many might think. In fact, according to the birds whose languages could hold useful information if you knew how they spoke, Luthien and Beren had been dead and buried for about two years. Surely the princess of Doriath and her mortal husband could not have been naive to think that a child born from resurrected bodies would **_not_ ** be affected by that former state?

 

Looking back to where the other servant held the sleeping Dior in his arms, Celegorm knew that he now had a choice:

 

Either bringing Dior to Doriath, telling Thingol of that his daughter was dead once again and risk getting viewed as her killer due to the events in Nargothrond, which held the great risk of that he could get killed as well.

 

Or he could take Dior along to Amon Ereb, making the boy a mix of being a hostage and ward while the Fëanorians offered to give him back in exchange for getting the Silmaril back. As the only direct descendant of Thingol left alive, Dior would be very valuable in the politics of the future.

 

“If the kid was born with less than robust health, he could need treatment from healers who actually have some kind of experience when it comes to mortals and their strange illnesses….”

 

Besides, Celegorm knew that he was far from the only one of his brothers to wish some form of payback at Thingol for not helping the Union of Maedhros the year before. The armies of Doriath could have made a such huge difference between the hopeful victory and the crushing defeat they had suffered alongside their allies…

 

“We will bring the boy to Amon Ereb. My brothers shall know that the Princess of Doriath and her mortal did not get many years together, after all.”

 

He could send the unfinished letter to Doriath with the message dove which was still alive. Let them await their princess, worrying when they did not show up, and then arrive here to Tol Galen to see what had happened. But the rulers of Doriath would not find their grandson here.  

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

 

Later that autumn, Amon Ereb:

 

“Still no news from Doriath?” Maedhros heard Celegorm ask, where he was sitting in the herb garden. The little heir of Doriath was in his lap and staring at the herbs in front of him, still silent as he had been from the night following the death of Luthien and Beren. The healers thought that it was a result of the trauma and shock, as well confirming to Celegorm that yes, Dior was actually suffering from a sickly health from birth which must the result of that his parents had actually been dead before he had been begotten.

 

Maedhros took a deep breath, before answering:

“It did arrive one letter this morning. Thingol flat out demanded that we should take Dior to Doriath right now, and that we could forget about him giving us the Silmaril in exchange for his grandson. To be honest, I do not think the King really thought of the exact meaning of his words, only wrote down a response in his anger over our request without looking though the letter before sending it.”  

 

Celegorm narrowed his eyes in anger at what he heard, but tried to keep calm because Dior was still seated in his lap. No need to make the boy fall to ground when he jumped up to his feet in anger.

 

“I can accept his refusal of my courtship of Luthien because it actually was not well thought-off in the long run outside my wish to gain power in Doriath and force Thingol to help us in the war, alongside that she seemed to use her inherited Maia powers on me to become drawn to her like a moth to a candle, but risking his grandson like that? For a gemstone that does not really belong to him and which was stolen from our father originally….yes, Dior?”

 

The toddler had pulled gently on the silver braid to get attention, holding up one of the herbs to show what he had found.

 

“Oh, you found some rosemary? What a clever child you are, did you overheard the cooks mention that they planned to serve chicken with rosemary at dinner today?” Celegorm praised fondly, making the boy smile at him in joy, before trying to pull out more of said herb with his little hands.

 

“I will try and find a solution to all this new trouble, but I will not allow Dior to suffer for something his parents did in the past, get it, _Turcafinwë_?”

 

Maedhros both sounded dangerous and used his brother's father-name in Quenya on purpose, he had been very disappointed with Celegorm and Curufin for the events in Nargothrond and while he had forgive them over time, they knew that he would not forgive easy and a similar political situation would result in very unpleasant results. He was the leader of them, the eldest and expected to be obeyed.

 

“Have I done anything so far that hints to bad treatment of Dior, brother?”

 

To that, Maedhros could not claim anything, but Celegorm still understood the warning. A cough made him look down again, listening to how Dior coughed. This time, it went over quickly but he knew that the child would feel exhausted as a result. According to some of the mortal wise women who had arrived to see if they could help decide if Celegorm's suspicion about the first death of Luthien had affected her son, Celegorm had been right; Dior would be lucky to live to the age of forty if he managed to avoid dying young due to his sickly health, and even more lucky to find a bride willing to see past his health problems and risking that their own future children could inherit poor health from Dior.

 

In a strange way, Luthien and Beren had basically damaged life for their only child and his possible descendants, all because of Luthien pleading to be with Beren in both life and death.

 

“Come on, Dior, do not be shy, it is fine if you want to talk. You recovered from the smoke inhalation months ago, when we were on the way to Amon Ereb.”

 

Dior looked up at Celegorm with large eyes, lips forming words but not sound came out.

 

“Still confused over the Quenya, huh? I think we both know a word that should not be too different from the Sindarin you knew before. Can you try ‘ _atto_ ’ for me, Dior?”

 

Their eyes met again, the steel grey of Celegorm and the brighter silver from Dior.

 

“....A….”

 

“A _tto_ ,” Celegorm corrected, recalling how his own father Fëanor would do when his sons would start talking. There had been some laughable moments as Maglor and Caranthir, then followed by the Ambarussa, had insisted on “ammë” first, though Fëanor had taken it with a surprising calmness. As long as his children learned to speak properly and in clear voices, he did not mind losing to his wife in the classical small “first word” battles that could happen in families.

 

“.....atto….”

 

Smiling in pride, Celegorm used his fingers on both hands to gently massage Dior around the ears, which he had learned that the toddler liked.

 

“Good boy, Dior. I think we can make you talk again soon, you only need a little time to learn Quenya.”

 

Maedhros watched the scene, and yet said nothing about the irony of Luthien's son now learning to call her rejected suitor for father. If Thingol wanted to avoid a Noldorin-raised heir, the last gift from his beloved daughter, the King of Doriath really should hurry up and agree to the terms Maedhros already had sent off in a new letter to the hidden kingdom. If Doriath really valued the little prince outside his status as Luthien's only child, giving up the silmaril for him was a equivalent exchange.

 

“Don't send Curufin into a state of shock when he hears Dior calling you father. He still believes that you are enjoying your personal freedom too much to be burdened down by the responsibility as a paternity means.”

 

“And that shall come from the brother who tried to copy our father in almost everything. I'm just grateful for that mother and Astarë flat out refused to make Celebrimbor the third Curufinwë and that our sister-in-law quickly changed it into Telperinquar before Curvo could suggest something else,” Celegorm said, reminding Maedhros of the whole family joining together and loudly protesting when Curufin had really tried to first name his son Nelyacurufinwë.

 

“There was enough confusion with father and Curvo sharing the same father-name, no need to add in another one.”

 

Then, Maedhros left Celegorm and Dior alone since he had some duties to somewhere else. Now it seemed like the boy actually was willing to try speaking more, or at least attempting to say something in Quenya. Perhaps the trauma of losing his parents and being surrounded by strangers had made Dior too scared of speaking at first. The different language most likely did not heöp much, either, the Sindarin spoken in Doriath and here in Amon Ereb was very different thanks to the not so little thing called dialects.

 

“Well, young one. Until that your grandfather realizes that a gemstone is not really worth the loss of you as his sole remaining heir, since your mother have no siblings and you are a only child like her, it seems like you will be staying here for a good while.”

 

“Atto!” Dior giggled, as he was trying to climb on Celegorm. Both of them laughed when he put the boy back down in his lap again.

 

“You may never have the stamina to be a warrior or hunter, but I will ensure that you know some basic skills in survival at least.”

 

Perhaps Dior was fated to die at a young age because of circumstances beyond his control, but that would not be allowed to make him less than others. Surely his survival, born to a once dead and rescued couple, must be a part in the greater meaning of life, as Oromë used to say in the so distant past now.  

**Author's Note:**

> Beren died his first death in the year 466 of the First Age, according to the timeline on the Tolkien Gateway wiki, and Luthien out of grief for him in the following year. With them returning to life and marrying in 469, and Dior being born the following year in 470, I wanted to try out a story where their bodies must have been in the natural decomposition of dead bodies which could have indirectly affected Dior during the pregnancy, and that even Namo have a limited ability to restore people unless it is in truly new bodies which the Valar have created for those who leaves the Halls of Mandos.


End file.
